


Heal My Wounds

by Krixel



Series: Illusion & Dream [1]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Ethari hurts himself, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Runaan patches him up, character injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26896660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krixel/pseuds/Krixel
Summary: Ethari burns his hand on a blade minutes before Runaan arrives home. Exasperation and soft husbands ensue.
Relationships: Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince)
Series: Illusion & Dream [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970386
Comments: 5
Kudos: 102





	Heal My Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt Fill: I'm not one to complain, but this really hurts.

The sword clattered from the anvil as his hammer struck too close to the edge. Ethari snapped his hand out on instinct, training and good sense kicking in too late to save him from the burning slice across his palm. Biting down on a shout, his hammer followed the sword to the ground with a solid thunk while he cupped his left wrist close and stared at the damage. 

Beneath his index finger, a deep gouge slashed diagonally across his palm to the top of his wrist. With dull optimism, Ethari noted it wasn’t bleeding. That it wasn’t bleeding because it had cauterized and blistered beneath the heat of the metal he’d been forging. Well - he’d take what he could get.

As he surveyed the mangled skin of his left hand, a distant ringing sounded in his ears and a cold sweat trickled down his neck despite the heat of the forge. “Oh,” Ethari said, voice soft with surprise as his knees trembled and buckled. 

A moment later, the first fiery tendrils of pain licked across his palm, and Ethari was thankful he’d already landed on the floor. His shoulders hunched as he pulled his left hand to his chest, like he could protect it from the growing inferno spreading up his wrist and engulfing his arm. A gasping breath tore from him, and tears blurred his vision, warring against the shadows sneaking from the corners. 

He’d burnt himself before, though less often these days and rarely with such severity, and the heat and pressure of his work often left his hands dry and cracked, littered with nicks and cuts from testing blades. His work required sweat, occasional blood, but the tears escaping down his cheeks were new as he struggled to recall any other time he’d managed such a spectacular accident. It felt as though he’d carved his palm open with a sunforge blade, while the heated rays of its light poured from the wound.

Clenching his eyes shut and clamping his jaw closed, Ethari hunched further over until his forehead met the floor and its blissful chill soothed his rampaging thoughts. He was acting ridiculous, like a novice who’d never learned the biting lessons of the forge. Her heat was giving and beautiful, but also temperamental and cruel if not treated with patience, and he’d acted with haste. 

Get up, he urged himself. Get up and walk to the sink. You have salve there, Runaan makes sure of it, and bandages. You know better than this, and if you don’t find your feet soon, you’ll scare the wit out of Adeline. She’ll be here for her necklace at any moment. 

Slowly, trying to keep his movements from setting off another wave of dizziness, Ethari uncurled. His stomach twisted and his vision whitened, but he stayed upright. Behind him, the door to the shop opened. “Etha - Ethari!”

Runaan. Oh. Oh no. He was meant to be gone well into the evening. “Hello, heart,” Ethari said, his greeting falling flat on the croaky husk of his voice.

Runaan hit his knees in front of his husband, the smooth texture of his gloves sending a wash of coolness across Ethari’s cheeks as he cupped his face. Runaan’s bright turquoise eyes were wide with alarm, lips parted and brows drawn. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I’m not one to complain,” Ethari said, offering a delirious smile, “but this really hurts.”

He held out his hand for Runaan’s benefit, and the assassin took his wrist between gentle fingers. With a sigh, Runaan kissed along his fingertips. “Yes, my light, I imagine it does. You need a healer.”

“I have you,” Ethari said. “That’s more than enough.”

Runaan shook his head, white hair swaying with the force of it, but his smile was fond. “I’m no healer.”

“Please,” Ethari said, not entirely certain of the words leaving him as his vision grayed and he leaned forward to rest his head on his husband’s shoulder. “I want you to help me.”

Runaan’s hand lifted, fingers trailing along the back of Ethari’s head, stroking his hair and the nape of his neck. “All right. I’ll do what I can for now, but a healer will see to you after. Agree?”

“Anything for my heart.”

“I’d find that far more romantic if I weren’t certain you were going into shock,” Runaan said, the edge of a drawl curling his words. “Let’s see if we can get you up.”

Runaan had just slipped his arm beneath Ethari’s so that the craftsman’s rested across his narrower shoulders, when the door opened again. Ethari turned his head, but Runaan was already snapping “out,” at whoever had dared to enter. 

“But - oh, is he okay?”

“I said, get out,” Runaan said again, and Ethari shivered at the command in his voice, or perhaps it was the shock setting in, but he recognized that tone. That was Runaan’s Assassin Leader tone. 

The sound of the door opening and closing signaled the departure of their unfortunate visitor, and Ethari nudged his head against Runaan’s. “That was my customer. She needs her necklace.”

“Her necklace will wait.” Runaan gripped Ethari to his side and then pushed upright, bringing them both to their feet with no small amount of effort, as Ethari continued to drape himself against his husband like a burly boa. 

“But I fixed it for her, and you were very rude.”

Runaan muttered something beneath his breath that Ethari couldn’t hear, but then he turned and pressed a kiss to one of the pointed stems of Ethari’s markings. “I love you,” he said. “I will make nice with Adeline later. For now, let me worry about you.”

“I’m sorry,” Ethari said, nuzzling his cheek against Runaan’s jaw, mindful of his horns and their proximity to his husband’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Runaan huffed a laugh and squeezed his arm around Ethari’s waist. “I suppose it’s only fair you get to return the favor sometimes. Here, sit down.”

Ethari eased onto his stool and let Runaan guide him until his back pressed against his desk. Runaan stepped away and looked him over. “Are you all right if I go get some supplies?”

“Yes.”

Ethari watched as Runaan gave him one more quizzical glance, as if he might topple over the moment Runaan turned his back, and then he was striding across the room, long legs covering the distance with ease as his coat and ponytail swayed behind him. Ethari frowned. “What are you doing home this early?”

Runaan didn’t look up from rummaging through the basket of medical supplies Ethari kept by the sink, setting aside objects while dismissing others. “I know I’ve been working late recently, and our briefing finished early, so I planned to surprise you for lunch. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but I’m glad I came home.”

“I’m sorry,” Ethari said again, lowering his head. “You were being sweet and I’ve messed it up with my clumsiness.”

Runaan returned and sat his collection on Ethari’s desk. He lifted a bottle filled with lukewarm water and splashed it across Ethari’s hand, clasping the fingers as Ethari instinctively flinched. “Hush, my light. You messed nothing up, and you’re not clumsy. I am not the only one who’s been working too late, and too much.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Runaan tended to Ethari’s hand. His husband tugged off his gloves and set them aside, using gentle fingers to spread the Sun Tear’s salve over the freshly cleansed wound. Then, with a soft kiss to the base of Ethari’s palm, Runaan shook out a bright white ribbon of bandages and wrapped it around Ethari’s hand. He tied and tucked the ends of the cloth before standing and rolling out his shoulders. “How’s that?”

“Better,” Ethari said, and he meant it. The wash of water and the salve dimmed the blazing pain of the burn, and the dull pressured ache of the cut was little more than an annoyance. The skin of his palm felt too tight if he made a fist, but Runaan had wrapped the bandages with enough stiffness to keep his hand stable. “Thank you.”

Runaan arched an offended eyebrow and leaned down to kiss him. The gentle brush of his lips a mere tease as he pulled away. “You’re my husband. I’ll always take care of you.”

Ethari grinned at that and reached out his right arm to snag Runaan by the hip. “That’s usually my line.”

Runaan let himself be dragged forward, settling his hands on Ethari’s shoulders as Ethari hooked his ankles behind Runaan’s calves. “Since you’ve incapacitated yourself from work for the rest of the day, why don’t we lock the door and go upstairs, and I can take care of you.”

Ethari hummed in pleasure at the thought of spending time with Runaan after too many weeks of long hours, but he shook his head. “You’re working and I’ve already ruined half your day. I’ll close the shop and be fine.”

“Perhaps, I wasn’t clear,” Runaan said, that arched, commanding tone returning and prickling the hair along Ethari’s neck. When Runaan dipped his head so his lips brushed across Ethari’s ear, he shivered. “My husband injured himself, and it is my duty,” Runaan nipped at his ear, “my pleasure, to see him well. You are my priority, Ethari. I should show you that more often than I do.”

Warmth swept through Ethari's chest beneath those sincere turquoise eyes, and he used his right hand to guide Runaan’s questing mouth to his own. The tender press of lips pulled a contented sigh from Ethari, and he tangled his fingers into Runaan’s long white hair. Their foreheads touched and Ethari’s smile was just the edge of wicked. “In that case, go lock the door. I think I’m going to need plenty of tending to.”

“Of course, my light.” Runaan dropped another kiss to his husband’s lips and then crossed the room and bolted the lock.

**Author's Note:**

> Occasionally when I'm stuck on other stuff or just want to write something short, I'll fill some prompts and requests over on my tumblr. If there's anything you'd like to see, or just want to come say hi and flail about The Dragon Prince and Ruthari in particular, feel feel to drop me an ask.
> 
> [Tumblr](https://krixelangel.tumblr.com/)


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